Sherlolly Oneshots

Don't Get Caught

Haha, inconsistency 101. Enjoy!

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"Here you go, you two. Paul Denver, 32. GSW to the chest is the cause of death but he had been suffering with asthma and lung problems his whole life. Go ahead, do your thing."

Molly Hooper stepped back as Sherlock Holmes stepped forward, accompanied by John Watson. He leaned forward, letting his gaze rake across the body, his narrowed eyes flicking around.

"Are those cat scratches," John asked quietly from behind him, motioning to small scars on the dead man's body. Sherlock stood up.

"Yes. Though I'm not quite sure they'll have much to do with the murder," he replied, not taking his gaze off the body.

"No? He didn't have a cat, though, did he?"

Sherlock looked back at John, one eyebrow slightly raised, "and that's what we'll have to figure out, isn't it?" John nodded as the detective turned to Molly, bowing his head, "thank you Molly," he turned to John, "John, let's get going then. We have a murder to solve."

The man nodded as the two turned to leave. However, just as John was opening the door to leave the morgue, Sherlock paused. John looked back at the detective, an eyebrow raised.

"You go ahead, John, I have to see to one more thing about the body." Sherlock said, tilting his head in the direction of Molly as she diligently worked on the body, straightening sutures and adding last touches to the autopsy. The smaller man opened his mouth, looking like he was about to protest, but closed it and shrugged, eventually heading out and closing the door behind him.

Sherlock watched as the door closed, immediately turning on his heel and strolling over to the pathologist once it did. He paused, watching as Molly worked. She hadn't yet noticed his presence, but jumped a bit when she did.

"Sherlock! Goodness, I didn't see you there. Do you have a question about Denver?" Molly stripped off her gloves, watching Sherlock as he made his way around the metallic table to the pathologist.

"Just one, but it's not about Denver." He said lowly. Molly blinked at him, turning back to the body and running her gaze across it carefully.

"Oh, well there were a few things in his autopsy I do want to show you while you're here so- oh!" Molly let out a small yelp when she felt two hands slip around her waist and a low voice whisper in her ear.

"What time will you be coming over tonight? John is going to be off with Rosie." Molly's face turned red as she turned to face Sherlock, who had a smirk splayed across his face.

"I-I don't know if I should go tonight. What about Mrs. Huds-"

"Mrs. Hudson is retiring early tonight and, due to her nightly 'herbals' for 'her hip', I can safely assure you we will be perfectly uninterrupted." Sherlock said, running his thumb across her cheek. Molly cast a wide-eyed glance to the door to the morgue.

"I-I don't know..."

"It's alright, Molly," the detective soothed, turning the pathologists chin up towards him and smiling as his voice lowered to a whisper, "I'll make you dinner, and we can watch some Glee on Netflix, and we can maybe do other things while Glee is playing..."

Sherlock laughed as Molly once again turned bright red and turned her gaze to the floor. "If you insist, Sherlock."

The curly haired detective pressed Molly tightly to his chest, letting his chin rest atop her head, "I know you're worried about your job if we're in a relationship, but that's the exciting part about having a secret relationship isn't it? The sneaking around, the averted glances," Sherlock let hands trail from Molly's back down to her sides, "the hushed giggles, the knowing smirks," his fingers lightly skimmed down to her waist and Molly looked up, biting her lip, "the intensity of the kisses I do get to steal." Sherlock leaned down, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth as his lips brushed lightly against hers. Molly stood on her toes, her chin tilted up and gaze dragging across the detectives mouth as a tenseness rested over the two.